What a Top-10 Finish Taught Me About Building Something That Lasts

NYC Business Plan Competition.
250 participants.
46 submissions.
10 finalists.

I was one of the ten finalists.

Of course, the goal was to win one of the top three spots. Anyone entering a competition would be lying if they said otherwise. You don’t spend months refining an idea, building projections, pressure-testing assumptions, and presenting your work just to participate—you do it because you believe in what you’re building and because you want to win.

But I didn’t win.

And yet, I didn’t walk away empty-handed.

I walked away with a completed business plan, direct feedback from experienced judges, clarity about next steps, and confirmation that my work was viable and worth continuing. More importantly, I walked away with a reminder that progress often comes from persistence, not immediate success.

This lesson applies directly to teacher education. Since graduating from Teachers College, I’ve realized that resilience and grit—especially in the face of disappointment—aren’t optional. They are essential. Whether it’s navigating a challenging classroom, implementing a new lesson, responding to constructive feedback, or advocating for students, the real work begins after the challenge.

Here’s the thing no one tells you early on: it gets easier—not because rejection stops happening, but because you change. You develop thicker skin. You gain sharper discernment. Your vision becomes clearer. Your determination strengthens. You stop taking “no” as a verdict on your worth or capability and start seeing it as data to inform your next move.

Competitions are snapshots in time; classrooms are marathons. Success as an educator isn’t about perfection, accolades, or being the “best” teacher in the room. It’s about building something that lasts: learning experiences that matter, instructional practices that inspire, and relationships that empower students to grow. It’s about persistence, reflection, iteration, and staying in the game long enough to see the impact of your work compound over time.

The morning after the competition, I came across a quote from Foundr, a channel I follow:

“The hardest part is not starting, but continuing.”

That sentence captured exactly what this season of my life—and my teaching—has been about. Whether designing a lesson, piloting a curriculum, or supporting a struggling student, the work isn’t in the first attempt; it’s in continuing to improve, refine, and persevere.

Being a finalist reminded me that validation comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s a top-three finish; sometimes it’s clarity gained from feedback. Sometimes it’s simply the knowledge that you stayed committed to your work and vision despite obstacles.

In teaching, the lessons are the same. Success isn’t measured by flawless lessons or immediate recognition—it’s measured by the enduring impact you make, the growth you facilitate, and your willingness to persevere, iterate, and stay in the game.

There is still a long way to go.

And that’s okay.

Because the work continues.

MDE